“Breathes there the man, with soul so dead,
Who never to himself hath said,
This is my own, my native land!”
Those words, written more than two centuries ago by Sir Walter Scott, have never really lost their power. Many of us also remember them because they appear in the story, “The Man Without a Country,” where they pierce the heart of a man who had lost the privilege of calling any nation his own.
There is something deep within the human heart that longs for home. God created us that way. We long to belong – to a family, to a community, to a people. Love of one’s country, rightly understood, is not merely a political sentiment; it is a natural expression of gratitude for the place where God has planted us.
Every Fourth of July, we celebrate that gift. We thank God for those who came before us, for those who secured our liberty, and for those who have sacrificed to preserve it.
And yet … I wonder if this Independence Day many Americans will experience another emotion as well. Not anger. Not disappointment. Something deeper. GRIEF.
Not because they have stopped loving their country, but because they love it still. There is a particular sadness that comes when something precious seems to have lost its familiar character. It is like returning years later to the home where you grew up. The house is still there. The front porch is still there. The old tree is still standing. But something has changed. You cannot quite put your finger on it, yet you know it. The place you loved remains, but it is somehow different.
Perhaps many people feel something like that today.
This is not a reflection about politics. The Church has never been called to endorse one political movement over another. But she has always been called to speak about the moral and spiritual foundations upon which every civilization depends.
The question before us is this: Can a nation remain free if it forgets the source of its freedom? Can a person preserve liberty if they lose the virtues that sustain it?
These are not political questions. They are profoundly spiritual ones. And perhaps that is the reflection we need this Fourth of July.
Perhaps our sadness is not really about a nation at all. Perhaps it is about the loss of something even deeper. When a people begin to forget why they are here, when truth becomes uncertain, when goodness is treated as weakness, when God is no longer the center from which everything else takes its meaning, a kind of spiritual disorientation begins to settle over a culture. We may not recognize it at first. We only know that something precious seems to be slipping through our fingers.
The Scriptures remind us that this is not a new story. It is the story of every people who slowly forgot the God who had blessed them. They did not lose everything in a single moment. It happened gradually – one compromise at a time, one forgotten commandment at a time, one generation failing to teach the next. What was once treasured became neglected. What was once held sacred became commonplace. And what was once unthinkable slowly became accepted.
Yet the greatest tragedy was never the loss of prosperity or influence. It was the loss of memory. They forgot who had delivered them. They forgot the covenant. They forgot that every blessing they possessed had first come from the hand of God. And when a people forget God, they do not simply lose their religion; they begin to lose themselves.
That is why the Lord so often told His people, “Remember.” Remember what I have done for you. Remember where I found you. Remember the One who gave you life, who gave you your freedom, who gave you this land. Forgetfulness was never merely a failure of memory; it was the beginning of a failure of the heart. Once the heart forgets God, it soon begins to seek other gods – wealth, power, pleasure, self, or whatever promises happiness apart from Him.
Perhaps that is why this Fourth of July invites us to something more than celebration. It invites us to remembrance.
We remember with gratitude those who sacrificed for our freedom. We remember the blessings that have been poured out upon this nation. But above all, we remember the God from whom every blessing comes.
The Book of Deuteronomy contains a warning that is as timely today as when it was first spoken to Israel. Moses tells the people that when they have prospered, when their homes are filled, their fields are fruitful, and they live in security, they must be careful lest they say in their hearts, “My own power and the strength of my own hand have produced this wealth for me.” Instead, they are to remember the Lord, for it is He who is the source of every blessing.
That warning is not given only to ancient Israel. It speaks to every generation, including our own. Prosperity can make us forgetful. Comfort can make us complacent. Success can tempt us to believe that we no longer need God. Yet history reminds us that whenever a people begin to forget Him, they eventually lose not only their gratitude, but also the very truths that once gave them life.
Perhaps this is why so many people feel an uneasiness they cannot explain. They sense that something is missing. They see division where there should be unity, confusion where there should be truth, anxiety where there should be hope. We often search for political solutions to what are, at their heart, spiritual problems.
The answer, however, is not despair. God has never abandoned His people.
Again and again, throughout salvation history, when His people wandered, He called them back – not first through kings or armies, but through prophets, through faithful men and women, through hearts that were willing to listen once again to His voice.
The same is true today.
The renewal of a nation does not begin in its capitol. It begins in its homes. It begins when parents teach their children to pray. It begins when husbands and wives are faithful to one another. It begins when neighbors forgive instead of resent, when Christians choose charity over anger, truth over convenience, holiness over comfort. That kind of renewal rarely makes headlines.
But it changes history.
Every great renewal in the Church has begun with ordinary people who took God seriously. The saints did not wait for the culture to improve before they became holy. They became holy in the midst of cultures that desperately needed Christ. And because they were faithful, the world around them was changed.
As Christians, we are called to do the same.
It is easy to lament what has been lost. It is more difficult to become the people through whom God begins restoring what has been forgotten.
There is a temptation in every age to believe that the darkness is greater than the light. The people of Israel surely felt that way during the Exile. The first Christians must have felt that way as they lived under the Roman Empire. Yet God has never depended upon majorities to accomplish His purposes. He has always begun with the faithful few.
Think of Noah. Think of Abraham. Think of Moses. Think of Elijah, who believed he alone remained faithful, only to discover that God had preserved a remnant. Think of the Apostles – twelve ordinary men through whom Christ changed the course of history. God has never asked His people to save the world by their own strength. He has simply asked them to remain faithful.
Perhaps that is the question each of us should ask this Fourth of July. Instead of asking, “What has happened to our country?” perhaps we should first ask, “What has happened to my own heart?” Have I remembered the Lord? Have I been faithful in my own vocation? Am I helping to build up the Kingdom of God within my family, my parish, my community?
History reminds us that cultures rise and fall. Nations come and go. But the Kingdom of God endures forever. When we place our hope in Him, we discover that we are never without hope for our country, because we know that God is still at work, quietly calling men and women to holiness. And wherever holiness takes root, renewal has already begun.
So perhaps this Fourth of July, our prayer should be different. Not simply, “God bless America.” But first, “Lord, help us to remember You.”
For every true blessing begins with Him. Every lasting renewal begins with Him. Every civilization that has endured has done so because it recognized that there is a law higher than the law of man, a truth greater than public opinion, and an authority greater than any earthly power.
If we truly love our country, then we must love what is best for her. We must pray not only for her prosperity, but for her holiness. We must pray that God will raise up faithful fathers and mothers, courageous priests and religious, honest public servants, wise teachers, and young people who are unafraid to live the Gospel. These are the men and women through whom God quietly changes the course of history.
As we celebrate our nation’s independence, let us also remember our dependence – our dependence upon Almighty God. For it is He who has sustained us in times of trial, corrected us when we wandered, and never ceased to call us back to Himself.
And so we return to those familiar words:
“Breathes there the man, with soul so dead,
Who never to himself hath said,
This is my own, my native land.”
May we never lose that love. But may our love for our country always lead us to an even greater love for the God from whom every good gift comes.
This Fourth of July, let us thank Him for the blessings He has bestowed upon our nation. Let us ask His forgiveness where we have forgotten Him. Let us pray for healing where there is division, for truth where there is confusion, for hope where there is discouragement, and for faith where hearts have grown cold.
For when a people remember God, they begin to remember who they are. And whenever a people remember who they are in God, there is every reason to hope for the future.
And may Almighty God bless you, the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Bishop Joseph E. Strickland
Bishop Emeritus
